Ill Deeds
by SSJ-Alhazred
Summary: Rattrap's thoughts after "Code of Hero."


Disclaimer: I don't own Beast Wars, I'm not entirely sure who DOES, but I'm too lazy to research it. I ain't making money from this, anyway.

Spoilers and stuff: Post "Code of Hero."

Ill Deeds

  


by Alhazred  


madarab20@hotmail.com  


http://www.rockettownonline.com/~alhazred

Tell my tale to those who ask. Tell it truly, the ill deeds along with the good, and let me be judged accordingly. The rest... is silence.

He couldn't stand it anymore.

That bastard, he _knew_ exactly what to say, exactly what to do to be heralded as a hero, forever respected, remembered with fondness...

So if Rattrap couldn't stand it anymore, why didn't he believe his own thoughts on it in the first place?

The answer was obvious; it was the bickering. The snide remarks, the arguments, the times when they screamed bloody murder at each other, the things that only got _worse_ when they finally called each other 'friend.'

It had been... nice that way, Rattrap remembered. They always annoyed the other Maximals, and they annoyed them _more_ when they started to _relish_ the rivalry. Bickering was worse then it had a focus.

But that was it. Even in death, Dinobot gave him something to counter, something to poke fun at, something... nice to remember. Except Rattrap didn't deserve it. Or at least, he didn't _think_ he did.

After all, if he did, he wouldn't be out here, sitting against a rock, letting his gun dangle precariously from his fingers. That slagging idiot Dinobot had gone off and gotten himself killed. That was bad enough.

But it didn't help Rattrap that the last 'conversation' he had with Mr. Raptor-head was a none-too hidden question of his loyalty. That's what he'd done, no sense of tact, no sense of...

"Admit it, Rattrap, it was low," he said to himself. The words... the words spoke for themselves, after all.

Yeah, not much changes around here. 'Cept maybe the occasional allegiance. Found any Golden Discs lately? Passed 'em to any Predacons?

I don't need to explain my actions to _you,_ Mouse.

That's right. Ya don't. 'Cause they pretty much speak for themselves.

Go ahead, Rodent. Push it one more inch.

And he had. Rattrap remembered that he had. _Y'know, I useta figure I had you pegged. "He's a slag-spoutin' saurian, but at least ya know where he stands."_

And that was it.

Dinobot had always been a bit wonky, Rattrap thought, and he had certainly been a bit... unstable after that Golden Disc nonsense. Rattrap wondered how much of the blame was _his_ for Dinobot's death.

A lot, he rationalized. Would Dinobot have played the part of the Light Brigade if he hadn't been pushed to it? If maybe, just _maybe_ his so-called friends, Rattrap included, tried to be a little more... _friendly_ with him. _Talk_ to him. _Something..._

They had, of course... with Dinobot on his deathbed. It took that much for it to happen. And Rattrap didn't need to be a rocket scientist to realize that, when you thought about it, that was pretty damn sick.

Rattrap had no idea Dinobot had been suicidal. Was he just _waiting _for an opportunity like the one Megatron provided for him, the chance to be the hero and go out in a blaze of glory, so far removed from the death of a coward his own sword would have given?

No... Rattrap couldn't believe that. For some reason, he thought... maybe... Dinobot was afraid.

Dinobot... afraid.

Now that was a thought. But, Rattrap decided, probably an accurate one. Because the fearful were the ones that fought with the passion Dinobot had totaled each and every Predacon, transmetal and non-alike with. The fearful were the ones who couldn't die needlessly, without purpose, without making life count.

In fact, the little Maximal realized, _he_ was always afraid when he went into battle. What idiot _wouldn't_ be? He was willing to bet all of them, from Optimus to Megatron himself, felt that fear. The fear of defeat, of dying from a lucky shot or one of Tarantulas' schemes instead of having the chance to do something like Dinobot had.

What a rush it must've been.

What a fight, too. And what a victory. Maybe Megatron would think twice before his next attack if _one_ Maximal could wipe the floor with all of his precious Predacons.

All of them smacked down by one Maximal.

One Maximal.

Rattrap's gun slipped from his fingertips and thumped to the soft dirt. The dirt so far from where they'd watched his Spark float off to the Matrix, but so close to where they'd set up his funeral pyre.

One Maximal.

Yeah, that was Dinobot.

~fin~


End file.
